


in a search for roots now lost forever

by who_won_the_race_back_home



Category: DC's Legends of Tomorrow (TV)
Genre: Earth-1 Len's alive AU, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-28
Updated: 2018-06-28
Packaged: 2019-05-29 14:11:20
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,726
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15074843
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/who_won_the_race_back_home/pseuds/who_won_the_race_back_home
Summary: “Leo?” she asked, bewildered.It had been decades since Len had let someone call him Leo, and it certainly hadn’t been this woman. He had never seen her before in his life, but she was striking, with a fierceness in her eyes that was hard to look away from.“I don’t know who you think I am, but I am definitely not some boy band wannabe named Leo,” he said, harshly. “How the hell do you think you know me?”(Len gets spit out of the Oculus after it explodes, and ends up stranded in 1942 Zambesi, where he meets a recently returned Amaya).





	in a search for roots now lost forever

**Author's Note:**

  * For [TerraYoung](https://archiveofourown.org/users/TerraYoung/gifts).



> Hoo boy was this a rare pair! I have never written Len before, so this was a challenge, and I hope I did right by both these characters. It was a wonderful challenge nonetheless.
> 
> From the prompt: Leonard gets spit out of the Oculus in Zambesi right after Amaya returns to her village
> 
> Title from The Menzingers "I Can't Seem To Tell."

The first thing Len noticed were the stars, millions of them, as far as his gaze would reach.

He assumed this was death, and maybe some great cosmic deity was letting him get a glimpse of the universe, because the last thing he remembered was holding the failsafe switch, Sara’s brief kiss, the bottom of his stomach dropping out as he realized there really was no way he could get out of this one, and finally, the briefest moment of acceptance.

Then it all went blindingly white. A moment later he opened his eyes and all he could see were the stars.

Len flexed his hands, trying to see if he was still in control of his body, and felt the grit of dry dirt with his fingertips. There was a jab of pain, a rock digging uncomfortably into his lower back. He was splayed out on the ground, somewhere where there wasn’t manmade light for miles, if he could see this many stars.

So he probably wasn’t dead. But he wasn’t sure of much else.

Getting up was difficult, he was lightheaded and his skull pounded, not to mention the ache in his lower back from lying on the ground for who knows how long. He was too old for time travel nonsense. But after a few minutes, he more or less had his bearings and was able to move. Out in the distance, he heard the low hum of voices, far enough away that he couldn’t make out what was being said. With no idea where else to go, he went to find them.

The closer he got, it became clear that there was a celebration he was about to crash, laughter and music echoing their warmth into the night. Maybe their good spirits would be merciful. Just in case, he reached for the cold gun, only to find it missing.

Weaponless, he cautiously approached the far outer edges of what appeared to be a village, full of small huts with thatched grass roofs. Shadows cast by a large fire danced on the walls, and Len made sure to stay hidden just past where the light died.

Out of habit, he cased, noticing that there didn’t seem to be any electricity or modern technology of any kind. Everyone wore what seemed to Len like traditional clothes, so he had likely been spit out some time before peak globalization. It was just a matter of how far back.

Finally, he found a suitable opening. A break in the music, and a clear shot past several huts to the middle of the village where the fire blazed. He walked slowly, calmly, to try and avoid startling anyone. Just as he hit the center of town, eyes finally found him, one woman so startled she dropped the bowl she was holding.

A few people shouted, surprised, perhaps a bit a alarmed. It was in English, so good to know that his universal communicator still worked. But mostly they just stared. No one had shot him yet, so that was a good sign. Voices murmured, a wave through the crowd, looking for someone or something. It sounded like a name, Amaya.

The crowd parted, and a young woman walked through, her hand raised, almost touching her ornate necklace, but as soon as she locked eyes with him, she dropped it and rushed forward.

“Leo?” she asked, bewildered.

It had been decades since Len had let someone call him Leo, and it certainly hadn’t been this woman. He had never seen her before in his life, but she was striking, with a fierceness in her eyes that was hard to look away from. Her gaze softened quickly as she registered his confusion.

“I don’t know who you think I am, but I am definitely not some boy band wannabe named Leo,” he said, harshly. “How the hell do you think you know me?”

His tone was hostile, a couple of the younger men in the crowd stepped forward, ready to defend if need be. A reassuring wave of Amaya’s hand made them drop back, but they still eyed Len with suspicion, which seemed wholly fair.

“How did you–you went back to–“ she stuttered. Len could see the gears turning in her head as she tried to reason through whatever was going on. Finally something clicked and her head snapped up. “Which Snart are you?”

“What do you mean which Snart am I?” Len said, hesitant to follow her as she motioned past the crowd. “There’s only one, and I’m it.”

“It’s...complicated. More complicated than time travel,” she said, hushed. So she likely knew about the Waverider. “But I promise, I mean you no harm.”

Len sized her up. She seemed genuine, perhaps to a fault. Whatever was going on, wherever he had landed, she almost certainly knew more about it than he did, so he followed her back to her home.

It didn’t take long to suss out that Len was the Earth-1 Snart. Multiple Earths probably should have been more surprising, but then again, when you’ve been spit out from an exploding all knowing time apparatus parked at the edge of the universe in unknowable space to 1942 Zambesi with nothing more than a sore back, surprises were probably going to be hard to come by for the foreseeable future. Whatever “future” meant at this point.

At least, that was what Len thought until, moments after they had determined he was the Legends’ Snart this woman, Amaya, hugged him tight. He was stiff, arms pinned awkwardly to his sides. Almost instantly, Amaya pulled back, slightly horrified.

“I’m sorry,” she said. “I just-it felt, I don’t know, a little miraculous that a familiar face landed here the same day I left.”

“Right, familiar face, but I’m not whatever Snart you know.” Amaya’s face fell, just a fraction of an inch, something Len probably wouldn’t have noticed if he hadn’t spent all those years trying to decipher Mick’s moods.

“Sorry,” he said. “Not meaning to be cruel.”

“No, you’re right.” Amaya took a step back, leaving space and an awkward silence between them.

It was a long moment, Len crossing his arms and rocking back and forth on his heels until he couldn’t stand it any more.

“So, speaking of the old tin can, I need to get back to the ship. You have a way to call it?” Len asked, breaking the quiet.

Amaya gave him a resigned laugh. “I didn’t take any signaling device with me,” she said. “I didn’t want to be tempted.”

“Of course,” Len said.

He began pacing the short length of the room, thinking, running through ways he could fix this, and coming up short. “I’m not supposed to be here.” Another pause, calculating. “Where’s the nearest city? Ray built a beacon, or something, when he got stuck in 1958. Rip managed to find him. If I can get my hands on some parts and electricity, I’m sure I can make something that gets the job done.”

Amaya raised an eyebrow at him. “I don’t know how well you paid attention in history class, but there’s a war going on,” she said. “and I don’t know what kind of luck you’re going to have trying to get anywhere else. Even under good circumstances, It’s still a couple hundred miles to get to a city, even more to get to the coast. I’m sorry.”

“Fantastic.”

* * *

So he was stuck.

Amaya took to him almost instantaneously. It was easy to tell that she missed the Waverider, and with Len as her closest connection, it made sense. She was never overbearing, never pressed, but it was all in her body language-on the edge of overeager, a little too willing to try and get him integrated into her community. It was unnerving, because she knew so much about him, but she was an utter stranger. Len, however, was much more wary, as he was of pretty much anyone that wasn’t Mick.

However, he quickly resigned himself to his situation, for the time being, because there was rarely any use dwelling. The plotting never stopped, he couldn’t turn it off even if he wanted to, but he didn’t snatch anything, lest he get caught by Amaya’s literal eagle eyes (he quickly learned how powerful her totem was), because then he would be on his own and properly fucked.

Early on, just a few weeks after being spit out onto the Zambezi dirt, a village elder brought back generators. Len wasn’t sure how, but he desperately wanted to pick the man’s brain, because they could not have been easy to acquire. He also wasn’t sure how they were going to get enough gas to run them for any amount of time. Even without the war, like Amaya had told him, it was hundreds of miles to the nearest city big enough for regular shipments. No one else seemed particularly worried about it, and sure enough, there was almost always some around.

That afternoon, Len found Amaya in her home (well, his home now as well, Amaya had been kind enough to let him stay with her and her family), standing tip toe on a chair, trying to install a basic fixture for a bare lightbulb in the ceiling. Loose wires ran overhead, dangling precipitously. Amaya was muttering to herself, something about the Waverider and future technology, and while Len didn’t want to impose, he also didn’t want her to set his current shelter on fire. His boots made enough noise that she turned around, clearly exasperated.

“I spent more than a year on a ship that contained the most advanced technology in all of time, and I can’t get a lightbulb to turn on.”

Len traced the route of the wires to where Amaya was trying to install them and instantly clocked the problem. “Your wires are literally crossed.”

Amaya blinked at him, then at the wires in her hand. “You’re kidding me.”

“Also, I know you’re not particularly tall, but-“ he swatted the low hanging wire that fell in front of his face. “I think this might be considered a choking hazard. Can I?”

Amaya gave him a curious look, but begrudgingly got off the chair and handed Len her pliers.

“Can’t say I expected you to be an electrician. Jax said he took care of all that by himself on the ship,” she said.

“That’s because Jax is a sucker, and I don’t give myself work I don’t want to do.” Len pulled the wires taut and snipped the excess. “I’ve spent almost twenty years as a professional thief, I’ve rewired nearly every alarm system in Central City. This I could do in my sleep.”

It only took him a couple minutes to hook the wires up correctly and hang the fixture from a cross beam in the ceiling. It was certainly crude, but it would work.

“It’s got a Serbian gang movie torture scene feel to it,” Len said, getting down from the chair and admiring his handy work. “Very utilitarian.”

“That is...an incredibly specific reference,” Amaya said.

“They were the only ones Mick would watch with subtitles. Not that he would actually read them.”

Amaya smiled fondly at the mention of Mick’s name, with the hint of sadness that always lurked in the corners of her mouth when he mentioned anyone from the ship. Neither of them ever acknowledged it.

With nothing else to add, Len went to leave, before realizing he had nothing to leave to. The weeks he’d been in Zambesi had been a haze of boredom, once he accepted he’d be here for the long haul. No one trusted him enough to involve him in anything, not that he blamed them. He had “borrowed” a pack of playing cards undetected and had been playing so much solitaire he was close to losing his mind.

“I could wire the neighbors. I’m concerned they might share your technical acumen,” he offered.

“I thought you didn’t give yourself work you didn’t want to do?” Amaya said, wryly.

“My options for entertainment are woefully limited, and my fingers get itchy when I don’t use them for too long. It’s best for everyone involved.”

“Uh huh.”

Between Len and a fewof handy men in the village, within the week many of the houses had a light or two, and enough fuel to run them for a few hours each night. Len sometimes wondered how far out into the scrub brush you could see the glow.

After that project, Len let himself get to know Amaya. They would trade war stories over dinner, chat when Amaya invited him to help her keep watch for more Belgian soldiers, exchange anecdotes when Amaya forced him to help cook. Len was legitimately taken aback when Amaya told him Camelot was real, and he laughed over Ray’s chore wheel and unrelenting sunny disposition. Eventually Amaya had the heart to tell him about Stein, and the news hit him much harder than he ever expected. Amaya hugged him, cautiously, and Len let her.

He wasn’t sure what it was, the bizarre and lonely situation he had found himself in, or her magnetism, that explained how she so quickly wormed her way in. Probably a little bit of both.

* * *

Suddenly, six months had gone by. It was 1943 and Len had fully accepted he was probably never getting back to the Waverider.

And when he had realized that, Len found himself leaned up against a tree on the outskirts of the village, passing a bottle of wine with Amaya, because somehow, inexplicably, they had become something like friends. It was out of necessity, for both of them, but it was friendship none the less. 

The wine was made from some fermented fruit Len didn’t catch the name of, and it was sour and strong, like it was burning away the lining of his stomach as it settled there. He didn’t necessarily mind the feeling, it was fitting for the occasion.

“So, are you going to tell me why we’re getting drunk?” Amaya asked after more than a few passes of the bottle.

“Wasn’t planning on it, no,” Len said, staring out into the grasslands. “One of the things I like about you best, is that you’re comfortable with silence. I hoped that would be the case now.”

Amaya was quiet for a moment, keeping the bottle from Len’s outstretched hand. It was a clever enough way to get his attention, eventually making him turn towards her.

“Can’t a man just want to get drunk with the person who is now their only friend on this godforsaken planet?” Len said, trying to snatch the bottle. Amaya’s reflexes were too fast, though.

Len turned back towards the dark of the brush, Amaya’s kind eyes too much to acknowledge, though he could still feel her looking. That tenacity was normally quite useful, but he knew it was only a matter of time before she had turned it on him.

“You miss the Legends don’t you?” Amaya asked.

He didn’t want to give her the satisfaction of an answer, so he settled on a quick glance, barely turning his head.

“It’s okay to miss them,” she continued. “I do too.”

Something in her voice hitched, just barely. Despite all the time they had spent together over the past few months, all the stories they traded in building this thing, this friendship, they rarely brought feelings into it. Neither of them were the sentimental kind at heart, and feelings would’ve only made both their quiet longing worse.

Amaya took another long sip and turned to stare out in the same direction as Len.

“I had to-there were two peo-,” Amaya tried. She pinched the bridge of her nose. “Fuck.”

“Miss Jiwe, language.” Len teased.

Amaya shot him a look, completely unamused.

“I was with two of them, on the ship,” she said, sadness in her voice. “I loved them.”

Len raised an eyebrow, impressed. “What’s this? Little miss small town totem bearer practices polyamory? Well, now I’m intrigued.” Suddenly, a horrific thought crossed his mind. “Please tell me it wasn’t Ray.”

That was enough to get Amaya to laugh, a faux horrified look on her face. “No. No, they were from after you were around. But I care for them both, deeply. I miss everyone, but them-“

She didn’t finish her sentence, just finished off the bottle and grabbed another. Luckily they had brought a few.

“You miss Mick, don’t you?” she asked.

What she really wanted to know was obvious, and Len’s silence was enough of an answer. Amaya stopped herself on her way to taking a drink and offered him the full bottle. She didn’t press her question, and knew she didn’t need to. The quiet was filled with the symphony of creatures that made their home in the dark, a cacophony if Len focused on it hard enough. He let it roar over the ringing in his ears for a few moments.

“Mick and I are–“ Len stopped, his fingers unconsciously moved to worry at the silver ring on his pinky that was no longer there, that had been lost between the Vanishing Point and Zambezi. “We were partners.”

That was the easiest way to sum it up.

Amaya’s silence was long, eyes softening the more she looked at him. “Mick never said that much about you. Not really. I could tell that he just couldn’t bring himself to do it. But there was once, after he had helped me on a mission and Leo had left. He said the same thing.”

All Len could do was look at the ground, chuckling to himself. “I’m surprised he said that much.

“Mick’s a good man.”

Len nodded. “But, you know he would hate to hear anyone say that about him. Even me. Perhaps especially me.”

“He absolutely hated it when I told him, but that’s also exactly why I’m telling you.”

There was a glint in her eye, something sparkling and a little mischievous. Len wondered how much she got to be this woman while she was here at home, instead of the leader and protector of a whole village. In passing it often seemed like she had the weight of the world on her shoulders.

“God, I used to just see the world in terms of right and wrong, and I could make everything fit into those boxes,” Amaya said, changing the subject the way only the intoxicated could.

“But it took the League of Losers to make you see that things were a little more complicated?”

Amaya laughed fondly and grabbed the bottle back from Len. “It was mostly Mick’s doing, but yeah, something like that.”

She took another sip of wine, staring out into the grass and dark beyond the village’s perimeter.

“You’re a good man too, Len,” she said without turning to him.

“Not sure I would go that far.”

“You wouldn’t have stayed here and become a part of this community if you weren’t.”

“If you recall my options were and are woefully limited.”

“Shut up, Snart.” Amaya’s voice was harsh and scolding, but she had lost all her menace a bottle and a half ago. “You could have done so many things other than stay here and help. But you did. Because fundamentally, you are a good man.”

Len laughed at her telling him to shut up. There was no doubt that Amaya was a commanding presence, but in this moment, utterly drunk and propped up against a tree, it struck him as absurd.

And it was in the middle of Len laughing that Amaya kissed him. It took him a moment to notice, the wine having caused such a lag between his senses and his brain processing them. By the time it caught up, she had already pulled away, leaned back up against the tree, eyes screwed shut, trying to make the world spin a little less.

“I’m sorry,” she said, eyes still closed.

“It’s alright,” Len said.

And it was. Amaya was attractive, they were both lonely. Len had certainly tried to make worse decisions in his life. He tentatively rested a hand on her thigh and cautiously thought through what he wanted to say.

He settled on, “I’m generally not one to turn down a good distraction.”

Amaya opened her eyes then, glancing down at Len’s hand, then back up to his gaze. As always she was impossible to read.

“A distraction.” It wasn’t a question, more a statement of fact she hadn’t considered.

“Well, I’m sure neither of us has exactly been struck by Cupid’s arrow, but you are incredibly attractive. And you know the old adage, getting over someone, or in your case, someones, by getting under someone else and all that.”

“Getting-?”

“Right,” Len said with a sigh. “It’s 1943.”

“I understand the sentiment,” Amaya said.

Len’s hand still hadn’t moved from her thigh, and when she covered it with her own, he began to move up towards where they both wanted it, ducking his mouth to her throat to nip at the skin there.

It was inelegant, and both of them were so drunk that they fumbled like teenagers together in the back of a borrowed hatchback, practically falling over onto the blanket they had brought.

They were quiet, Amaya biting a moan into Len’s shoulder when he thrust into her. Len barely made a sound, his only giveaway was the hitch in his breath when he started getting close, and a long sigh when he pulled out and finished onto the dirt beside them, Amaya’s fingers splayed near his hip bone. Amaya quickly followed after a few moments of Len pressing hard circles on her clit.

Neither of them minded when the other whispered someone else’s name when they came. Maybe it wasn’t as good a distraction as Len thought it would be.

They laid together quietly, side by side on their backs, staring up at the endless stars together, both waiting for something that would never come.

It didn’t happen again after that, neither of them wanting to be reminded of someone else who wasn’t there, and probably never would be again. But the drunken nights did, probably more often than they should have. Somehow in that, they found companionship, and a home that no one else could ever understand.

**Author's Note:**

> Find me on tumblr at [angrypedestrian](http://angrypedestrian.tumblr.com)


End file.
